Feed the Nose
by Stony22
Summary: Tony's drug and alcohol abuse gets him into trouble during a night on the town. This work is inspired by M.O.N.E.Y by The 1975. I incorporated lyrics and themes from the song into this fic.


"Do I have enough money to spend? Of course, ladies! Don't worry about it," Tony said.

Four girls around him smiled in delight. They'd been fawning over him all night; in their eyes Tony owned them something, as they helped him jump the rope to get into the club.

The women had been smoking when they saw him waiting in line trying to get in. Two bouncers on duty deciding who could get into the club didn't want to allow Tony access after the lovely "performance" he'd put on during his last visit. It took the custodians days to clean up the mess he'd made: broken chairs, vomit all over the place, litter from goodness knows what lewd activities he'd been up to in his private room… Sure Tony had given them money to pay for the damages, but the last thing the manager of the joint wanted was to clean up after his shenanigans again.

As he argued with the bouncers, the girls spoke quietly amongst themselves on whether or not to help Tony out. They knew they were in for a great night if they helped Tony get in, but there was a risk that they'd never be able to come back either. The risk was worth the benefits, they decided. They put out their cigarettes, walked over to Tony and took him by the arms, winked at the bouncers and helped him get over the ropes. The two musclebound bounces complied to the women's wishes; how could they say "no" to four beautiful women?

Tony was enjoying the attention he was given by the beautiful girls. He'd brought some "treats" to make the night even better, though none of them wanted to participate.

He tried to convince them. "C'mon; not one of you likes to get blown? Feed the nose?"

They shook their heads "no."

Well, that certainly put a damper on his night, but no matter. Tony didn't press the matter much after that, and he changed the subject.

"Round of drinks over here, bar tender!" he held up a wad of cash.

"What'll you have!" the bar tender shouted back.

"Whatever's the most expensive!"

Tony lowered his voice. "Now ladies, I need to go to the bathroom for a moment; don't run off on me now," he teased.

Each of the women offered him a kiss before he took off. Little did Tony know that the girls decided to down their drinks and take off before he got back; a drugged up date is no fun, no matter how much cash they have.

Once Tony reached the bathroom, he rushed into a stall and poured the contents out of his pockets: a bag of tabs, several bags of of coke, a razor, and a straw fell onto the lid of the tank. Tony took one tab out and let it dissolve on his tongue. After that, he poured a little cocaine on the lid, broke it up with a razor and snorted two lines.

His nose dripped a little blood and some powder ended up near Tony's mouth, but he chose to ignore it. Most people had seen drug use at a club before, so he was no exception. Except that he was famous. But what did he care? Everyone knew he was a "bad boy" anyway.

Tony walked out of the bathroom feeling rejuvenated, but was angered to see that the women were no longer at the table.

"No one knows how to have fun these days," Tony sighed.

He pushed his way up to the bar and ordered some gin. Tony drank it down in one gulp, and when he turned to walk away from the crowd two men were behind him. One had black hair and the other brown, but both were tall and well built. Tony worked out pretty often, but he was nowhere near as sculpted as these men. Each reminded him of his best friend Steve Rogers, except neither were particularly handsome. Rather, they looked like they belonged on "The Jersey Shore."

"Gonna apologize for bumpin' into us? You made Jim here spill his drink, and lemme tell ya it wasn't cheap," the brunet said.

Tony scoffed. "You shouldn't have been hogging the bar. Get out of my way; I have more important things to attend to than some whiney meat heads."

He tried to push past them, but both took an arm and dragged him out to the back of the club. Tony tried to break free, but their grip was too strong. If he wasn't impaired by the drugs, he probably could've gotten away. But self-destructive behaviors were the only thing that made Tony feel alive anymore, so he secretly looked forward to the consequent beating.

After the men left him bleeding in the back of the alley, Tony pulled out the half-used coke baggie from earlier. He found it difficult to steady his hands, but sustaining his high would keep his mind off the pain enough to drag his ass back home. Tony brought it to nose, stuck it inside the bag and inhaled the last of its contents.

He tilted his head back to enjoy the sensation and within moments blood exploded from his nostrils. To make matters worse, blood was dripping from his mouth; Tony was pretty sure he'd lost a few teeth and potentially a broken jaw. He brought his hand up to his chin because he felt a sharp pain; it'd been cut open by a broken half of glass the black haired man found. At least Tony thought it was him. He couldn't remember with how fast the beating went down.

A wave of energy hit him despite the agony he was in. Tony managed to crawl over to some railing and pull himself up from the ground. He held onto the top metal bar to steady himself before walking the short distance home. His brand new clothing was ruined from the blood pouring from his nose and mouth.

When he arrived home, Tony stumbled into the bathroom and opened his medicine cabinet.

_Do I have enough weed to get to sleep tonight? _Tony thought to himself as he threw the contents off the shelf in hope of finding the small bag he kept stashed within the cabinet. Unfortunately it was no longer there.

_No_. _Guess I'm fucked. _

With that thought he fell to his knees and began to retch; all the blood and alcohol he'd swallowed upset his stomach. As he vomited he reached into his pocket for his cellphone to call for one of his friends to help. Tony brought it up to his face after the vomiting subsided for a moment, but he found that the screen had been shattered and it was completely broken. He would've ordered J.A.R.V.I.S to help him, but in a drug fueled paranoia the night before he turned the system off and didn't remember to reboot it.

Tony threw the phone aside, vomited once more and proceeded to pass out.

Several hours later, he was awoken by a gentle slap to the face. It sent a shooting pain throughout Tony's entire jaw.

"What!" Tony tried to exclaim, but it came out as a jumbled mess.

He felt hands gently lift him up to a sitting position. Tony closed his eyes and opened them to regain focus, and with joy he found that Steve was in the room with him.

"Steve!"

There was no point in Tony saying anything; Steve couldn't understand him.

Steve shook his head and sighed. "You're an absolute mess, Tony. I searched you and found these on your person," Steve put the bags of drugs directly in Tony's face, "Your jaw's all over the place and you can't even speak! I'm going to have to take you to the hospital to get your jaw and chin fixed up."

Tony tried to reach out for the drugs, but Steve kept them over his head. "No; you're not getting these ever again. I thought you'd gotten clean! When did you relapse? And let me guess, you made some inappropriate comment to someone's dame or made some racist comment and got beaten up for it. As my friends in my platoon used to say, 'the dog won't bark if you don't lark about.' I hope someday you take that to heart and learn your lesson."

Steve slowly helped Tony up to his feet and led him out of the bathroom.

"We'll clean this mess up later. Tony, I'd rather have you spend your money on a hobby that isn't 'feed the nose'… But you're all about your money, and whatever's more expensive you'll do, it seems…" Steve mumbled in disgust.

Broken jaw. Bloody nose. Ruined clothes. Broken phone. No girls and a vicious self-destructive streak. Steve wondered if Tony would ever change, but the longer he knew Tony the less faith he had in his ability to clean up. Death would probably be the only way he'd learn his lesson.


End file.
